Blue Skies
by WinterGirl19
Summary: "I said you smell nice?" Travis laughed again. "Pacman is going to love this story." Wes looked miffed, and Travis laughed even harder.


**A/N: Let me just start by saying that the finale was amazing, and I've watched it about 5 times now. Obsessed. Even the music was amazing! And there better be a second season, or I'm going to be _very_ upset! Also, fair warning, there may be some SPOILERS for the finale. If you haven't seen it though, you're crazy.**

**Anyway. I received another request from a reviewer, and I love both reviewers and requests, so I just couldn't say no! The request was for a continuation/alternate scenario of the Storm Front scene where Travis and Wes both get high. Hopefully I did that possibility a justice. This one's a little lighter, and I set it at the time of the Storm Front thing, which if I've done the show's timeline right in my head means that Travis and Wes just recently became partners, Wes is still married, and they don't annoy each other quite as much. And also Pacman is still alive (that was so sad!).  
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**I have no experience with controlled substances at all, so I really have no idea how either of them would react. I'm going purely on my imagination and some of what I've heard from friends. No medical knowledge at all either, so don't yell at me if it's all wrong, I'm not a doctor!  
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**Not slash, as always.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Common Law (though I wish...), I'm just borrowing the characters for a little bit.  
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**Hopefully it fulfills what that awesome reviewer was looking for!  
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**Onward!  
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* * *

He'd made Wes laugh too much. And Wes's laughter had made him laugh.

The drugs had made them both unable to stop laughing.

They'd somehow managed to keep the drug dealers subdued until backup arrived, but that was probably due to the fact that the dealers were more stoned than they were.

By the time the uniformed officers arrived on the scene, Travis was leaning heavily on the crates behind him, and Wes was laughing so hard he was hanging on to the lapels of Travis's jacket for dear life. The officers arrested the dealers and hauled them out of the building. A lieutenant approached Travis and Wes.

"Detectives, are you all right?" he asked, not looking very amused by the display.

Travis had managed to pull himself together slightly, and was gripping Wes's biceps to keep him upright. He looked up at the officer.

"Lieutenant, yeah, we're-" he looked down at Wes, who finally managed to stop laughing and was now gasping for breath. "We'll be fine I think," he finished uncertainly. Truthfully, he wasn't sure about Wes. He was starting to sober up, but Wes still seemed pretty out of it.

The lieutenant gave Wes a once over before giving Travis a skeptical look.

"I'll get an officer to take you guys home," he said shaking his head slightly and walking away.

Travis ignored the man's attitude and looked down at his partner. Wes's neck, ears, and head were bright red and his grip on Travis's jacket was loosening significantly.

"Wes?" he lifted his partner so he was standing up straight and held him at arm's length to look at his eyes. They were bloodshot and unfocused. Wes looked completely baked, a drunk smile on face. Jesus, how much of that stuff had he breathed in?

"Wes, can you hear me man?" Travis asked, shaking Wes slightly to get his attention.

Wes's eyes finally drifted to Travis's face. He blinked several times before making clear eye contact with his partner.

"Travis?" he slurred. "Travis," he repeated, clearly struggling to pull himself together. "I don't feel…" he looked up at his partner, confused. Travis mirrored his confusion.

"You don't feel what Wes?"

"Anything!" he laughed softly and collapsed into Travis. "You smell nice," he said, his voice muffled in Travis's shirtfront. He laughed again. "That surprises me!" he exclaimed, looking up at Travis as if this was the most fascinating discovery he'd ever made. Travis had to chuckle a little at his partner's reversion to a five year old.

"You're _so_ high," he laughed, still feeling slightly buzzed himself.

"Detective Marks?" Travis looked up to see a uniformed officer staring at him. The kid looked all of fourteen years old.

"Yeah?" The kid must have just graduated from the academy, and this was probably the first time he'd ever addressed a detective. Travis felt kind of sorry for the kid, having to deal with this.

"I um," he cleared his throat, "I'm supposed to give you a ride home?" the kid's eyes kept darting from Travis to Wes, the concern and awkwardness growing with each shift.

"Great," Travis said. He looked down at Wes, pushing him to arm's length again and holding a little more of his weight this time. "Wes, can you walk buddy?"

Wes responded by laughing and playing with a button on Travis's jacket.

"Guess not," Travis mumbled to himself. He slipped his arm behind Wes, lifting one of Wes's arms, draping it over his shoulders and grabbing his wrist on the opposite side. Travis looked up at the officer and nodded. "Lead the way kid," he said. The officer looked uncomfortable.

"Should I—Do you, uh, need help? With him?" he asked gesturing towards Wes. Travis shook his head.

"I've got him. He'd be mortified to know I was having to help him walk, let alone someone he doesn't know," Travis said. Wes was kind of heavy, but he didn't want this kid to awkward himself to death before they got to the squad car.

The officer nodded in relief, turning on his heel and heading for the car. Travis was mostly dragging his partner, who managed to stumble a few steps here and there. Travis was thankful to see the squad car just outside the open side of the warehouse, with no other officers in sight. The fewer people that saw Wes in this state, the better.

Unease returned as they reached the car. The officer had a hand on the handle of the back door, and then turned to look at Travis.

"Sorry, I uh, I only have a squad car, so…" he trailed off. Travis looked up at the officer, then at the car. It was a typical police squad car, with bars on the back windows and separating the front seats from the back seats. He honestly didn't care at this point, he just wanted to get Wes home to his wife and not have to deal with him like this anymore.

"It's fine, don't worry about it, I'll just put him in the back," he said, continuing toward the back of the car. The kid nodded and hurriedly opened the back door, before quickly making his way to the driver's side.

Travis leaned into the back, carefully detaching Wes from himself and leaning him back against the seat. He was lifting Wes's legs into the car when Wes suddenly seemed to come alive again.

"Travis? What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Relax, he's taking us home buddy, it's fine," he was straightening up when Wes's hands appeared out of nowhere, taking hold of his shirtfront in a death grip. He tugged Travis's face close to his, nearly pulling Travis into the backseat.

"You can't take me home," Wes said in a tone so serious it gave Travis chills.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy Wes," Travis said calmly, trying to loosen Wes's grip on his shirt. He figured Wes was having some kind of weird hallucination, maybe thinking he was back in high school or something. "It's me, it's Travis, we're taking you home to Alex-"

"No!" Wes said, gripping Travis's shirt tighter. "You can't. Alex will flip out. I can't go home Travis, you can't take me there," he was practically pleading now and that was freaking Travis out more.

"Okay, okay, it's all right Wes," he gripped his partner's hands, which were holding his shirt so tight it was beginning to hurt. "We'll go to my place, okay? How about that?" he smiled and nodded encouragingly at his partner. Wes's blue eyes were big and watery, and Travis could tell he was very far from sober.

Wes studied Travis for several moments, as if searching for the truth in his eyes, before releasing his shirt and nodding, slumping back against the seat.

"Okay, good," Travis smiled again before closing the door. He turned toward the front door and wiped a hand down his face. This was just super.

The officer cleared his throat, and Travis suddenly remembered he was standing there, watching the whole exchange from the other side of the car. He gave the officer a sheepish smile, gripping the front passenger door handle.

"Sorry about that, he accidentally took a big hit of whatever that stuff was," he said by way of explanation. The officer just nodded uncomfortably again, following Travis as he slid into the vehicle.

Travis gave the officer his address and they made the rest of the ride in awkward silence. Travis was still feeling a bit loopy from the drugs himself, and didn't really feel up to being his usual charming self. He must have closed his eyes for a few minutes, because before he knew it, the car came to a stop and he was looking up at his building.

"Do you need help inside?" the officer asked, big brown eyes staring at Travis. The officer's inexperience was making Travis feel very old all of a sudden and he shook his head, wanting to be free of the kid's discomfort.

"No, thank you, officer…" he looked at the kid's name tag, "Phillips. We can mange." He gave the kid a tight smile, turning to reach for the door handle.

"I won't tell anyone about this Detective Marks," Officer Phillips said quietly. Travis turned back to look at him, those big brown eyes were on his again. The kid swallowed. "I— you guys are legendary. I just wanted you to know, you don't have to worry," he finished, unsure of himself, looking back out the windshield.

Travis smiled genuinely this time, clapping the kid on the shoulder. Officer Phillips turned, looking surprised at the contact.

"Thanks Phillips. You're a good guy," Travis said, giving his shoulder another clap before exiting the vehicle.

Travis extracted Wes from the backseat, giving Phillips a wave before heading into his building. Wes was not sobering up at all, and could barely stay on his feet. Travis was trying hard to fight off the panic that was slowly rising in his chest with every minute that went by where Wes didn't seem any better.

He fumbled with his keys at the door to his place, when he finally managed to get it open he made a beeline for his couch, depositing Wes a little too roughly on to it. His partner didn't seem to notice the manhandling and stared dazedly up at the ceiling, blinking slowly.

"Wes? You okay man?" Travis asked, breathing heavily and staring down at his partner.

Wes shifted his eyes to Travis's face, but didn't seem to be able to focus on Travis's eyes. Travis's heart pounded a little harder.

"Wes?" he asked again, leaning over his partner and gently tapping his cheek. As soon as he made contact with Wes's cheek he knew something was wrong. His cheek was on fire. He felt Wes's forehead with the same result.

"Oh man, you're burning up, what the hell?" he recoiled at the heat coming off his partner. He made to get ice from the kitchen when Wes's hand grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave," Wes's voice was small and gravelly, like he hadn't had water in days. Travis realized he was having a bad reaction to the drugs, and symptoms were suddenly rolling across his mind: _mood swings, high fever, dehydration, hallucinations_. He looked at his partner, blue eyes wide and scared. He tried to pat Wes's arm reassuringly, but was pretty sure he failed miserably.

"I'm not leaving buddy, I'm just gonna get you some water and some ice, okay? I'll be right back, I promise." Wes's grip remained tight for several more moments before he let go.

"Okay," Wes said softly, eyes not leaving Travis's face. Travis rushed to the kitchen, fumbling around for a glass of water and some ice. He flung open the freezer, digging through boxes of frozen meals and finally finding a forgotten bag of peas at the back. He managed to find Ziploc bags in his drawers and dumped a bunch of ice cubes into a few of those as well. He piled the bags of ice in his arms and grabbed the glass of water, making his way back out to his partner. Wes was draped haphazardly across the couch: one foot on the floor, one hanging off the end, with one hand lying on his stomach, the other covering his eyes. Travis realized he was still in his suit.

"Wes?" he said slowly. His partner didn't move. "Can you sit up for me man? Let's get you outta that jacket, okay?" Wes spread his fingers slightly to look at his partner. Travis put the glass on the end table behind Wes's head, dumping the ice bags on the floor. Wes slowly placed his other foot on the floor, but that was apparently all he was capable of doing.

"Too tired," he mumbled, letting both hands drop onto his stomach and closing his eyes.

"Okay, I got you buddy." He leaned down and lifted Wes under his arms, placing him in a sitting position. He leaned Wes forward, resting him against his shoulder so he could take his suit jacket off of him. The heat coming off of Wes was making Travis nervous. He wondered if calling an ambulance might be a better idea than ice. He knew Wes would hate the idea of an ambulance, and decided to hold off. That was his worst-case scenario plan.

He removed Wes's shoes and socks before reaching for the water glass on the table.

"Wes, I need you to drink some water, okay?" Wes's eyes slowly focused on Travis, then studied the glass in his hand. He reached clumsily for the glass, and Travis managed to keep it from spilling as his partner drank greedily, emptying the glass. Wes's eyes closed again when he finished the water, head falling heavily against the back of the couch.

Travis set the empty glass back on the table, before laying Wes back down in a more comfortable arrangement on the couch. He didn't even seem to register the change.

"I'm going to put some ice packs on you to cool you off all right?"

Wes didn't acknowledge Travis's words. Travis placed a Ziploc ice bag on each of Wes's legs, one under each arm, and wrapped the frozen peas in a clean dishtowel before draping them across Wes's forehead. It might have been his imagination, but Wes actually seemed to relax a bit with the ice on him. Travis ran a hand over his face and breathed a small sigh of relief.

All he could do now was wait, and hope he didn't get any worse.

He was broken out of his thoughts by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and read _Captain Sutton_ on the caller ID. He flipped it open.

"Hey cap," he said.

"Travis, are you guys all right? Lieutenant Hull told me you guys might have breathed in a little of the stuff at the scene," Sutton said in response. Travis wasn't sure if he sounded mad or amused.

"Wes is having a bad reaction, but I think I've got it under control," he said, watching the steady rise and fall of Wes's chest as he slept.

"Wes is with you? Good, give his wife a call and let her know before she worries," Sutton replied. Travis looked at his watch and realized with a jolt that Wes normally would have been home an hour ago.

"Sure, will do cap," he said, hanging up quickly. He hesitated, but decided it had to be done. He fished in Wes's pockets for his phone, finding it in his right pants pocket.

He pushed the lock button on the iPhone and the screen came to life.

_Alex Text message (2)_

_Alex Missed call (4)_

_Alex Voicemail (2)_

"Crap," Travis said under his breath as he slid his finger across the screen to call her back. He and Wes had been partners less than a year, and he'd only met Alex once or twice before. She was very nice, but clearly not keen on the idea of Wes being a cop. He was glad the phone call he was making wasn't more serious, but he still had no intention of telling her what really happened.

She picked up on the first ring.

"Wes, you cannot do this to me, I've been going crazy-"

"Alex, it's Travis," he said, trying to sound casual.

There was a long pause before he heard Alex let out a breath.

"Oh god, what happened?" she asked finally, sounding absolutely devastated.

"No, no! Wes is fine!" he was lying through his teeth, but he didn't want to betray Wes by telling his wife the truth and having her freak out and demand to come see him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think that. We got a little carried away celebrating our closed case, and Wes is passed out on my couch," he forced a laugh and hoped it was convincing enough.

There was an even longer pause this time.

"Alex?" he asked finally, wondering if the call had been dropped.

"I'm here. So he's fine?"

"Oh yeah," he looked at Wes, whose brow was furrowed in his sleep, and tried to smile as he spoke. "He's going to have a serious hangover in the morning, my fault, but he'll be fine," he forced another laugh. "I figured it'd be better if he just crashed here than-"

"That's fine, thanks Travis," she cut him off suddenly. "Just have him call me in the morning I guess."

"Will d-" she hung up before he could finish his affirmation. He stared at the phone. "That's not going to go well for you buddy," he said to his unconscious partner as he placed the phone on the table.

Travis didn't know what to do with himself now. He took off his own jacket and shoes, deciding he was too exhausted to bother with a shower. His stomach growled as if to answer his question, and he headed for the kitchen to make something to eat.

After he ate, he settled himself in a chair near the couch to keep an eye on his partner. That plan failed when he promptly fell asleep.

He woke several hours later to Wes moaning and thrashing on the couch. He was mumbling something incoherent that sounded like 'don't do it.' Travis nearly tripped over himself getting out of the chair, and landed on his knees by the couch.

"Wes!" he yelled, shaking his partner's shoulders. "Wes, wake up man!"

Wes's eyes flew open and he gasped for breath, blinking rapidly and staring at Travis.

"Travis?" he drew in deep breaths, trying to focus on the world around him.

"Hey man, yeah, how you feeling?" Travis said, letting go of his shoulders and sitting back on his heels. Wes propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the melted ice packs he'd scattered around the couch.

"I, uh, I'm okay," he said, sounding confused and slightly embarrassed. Travis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Thank god, because you scared the shit out of me man. I thought you were going to OD for a while there," he said, running a hand through his hair and looking at his partner. The memory washed over Wes, and Travis watched a blush creep up his neck and onto his face.

"Did I, uh, say anything…weird?" it took real effort for him to make eye contact with Travis. Travis laughed out loud.

"Other than saying I smell nice? No, not really. I think your wife is going to murder you though," he said, grinning as Wes's face paled.

"Oh god," he fumbled for his phone, swinging his feet to the floor.

"Whoa, easy there partner, I already called her. She's not expecting you until the morning. I told her you got wasted celebrating a bust and were crashing at my place. She's pissed, but I think you'll survive if you grovel," he laughed. Wes relaxed slightly and slumped into the couch. He lifted his head up suddenly and looked at Travis.

"I said you smell nice?"

Travis laughed again.

"Pacman is going to _love _this story." Wes looked miffed, and Travis laughed even harder.


End file.
